The Break
by wholockian99
Summary: (Weechester, Dean:17 Sam:13) Dean gets severely hurt during a routine hunt. John gets mad that Dean had not been looking out for Sammy during the hunt,so Dean decides to keep his injury a secret. But what happens when his lie takes a turn for the worse? (Hurt Dean/Angst Sam/Rough John) (WARNING: Harsh language, and abuse of a minor. IF YOU CANNOT HANDLE THIS DO NOT READ IT!)
1. Chapter 1

"Dean! Behind you!"

Dean swiveled around just in the nick of time to see the ghoul running up behind him. He shot at it with his gun, but continuously missed.

"Dammit.." He cursed under his breath.

He turned around and started running, farther into the forest. Sam was gone, and Dean had no clue where his father was. He felt his lungs burning, as he ran, but he knew if he stopped the pain of the ghoul attacking him would be much worse.

"You can't out run me you runt!" The ghoul shouted, only ten feet behind Dean.

He tried to run faster, but he couldn't. His body unintentionally slowed down. He yelled out as the ghoul picked him up of the forest floor, and threw him against the tree. The impact sent him into a spiral of pain. His head throbbed, and his left ankle felt weird. He tried to wiggle his toes, but while doing so, it sent a shot of pain up his entire leg. Dean yelped out, and felt hot tears form around his eyes. Suddenly, he heard a gunshot, and opened his eyes to see his father standing over a headless body of the ghoul.

"Dammit Dean! This was a simple hunt! You could have gotten your brother _killed_ by running away like that! You acted like a little bitch!" John shouted at his son.

Dean was sitting up, his head in his hands. That days lunch was threatening to come up any minute.

"Get in the damn car." John muttered, walking back to the impala, and leaving his hurt son against the tree.

Dean couldn't take it, and let himself vomit. He closed his eyes whimpered, and slowly stood up. He definitely had a mild concussion, and most likely a broken ankle, but he couldn't show it. He was fine. They would heal by themselves.

_Pull yourself together. _Dean thought to himself, as he limped back to the car, wincing every time is weight was shifted onto his left ankle.

* * *

"Sammy? Are you okay buddy?" John asked his youngest son, who was lying on the ground by the car.

"M'm head hurts dad." Sammy whimpered. "The ghoul threw me to the ground, and I think I hurt my head."

"You'll be okay champ." John said, picking up Sam, and settling him into the backseat of the impala.

"DEAN! Don't make me ask twice!" John shouted, enraged that his oldest son had left the younger one alone, to run away.

Dean crawled into the front seat, and collapsed into the smooth leather. He tilted his head back, and let a tear fall down his face. He was in excruciating pain, but he would keep his mouth shut.

"H-How is Sammy?" Dean questioned, with a dry mouth.

"He probably has a concussion thanks to your negligence." John replied, not even making eye contact with Dean.

"I-I'm sorry dad. I just.."

"You just what Dean? You decided your life was worth more than Sam's? You decided to become a selfish little _brat_!?"

Dean turned his head to the window, watching the trees sway in the breeze. He let his body take over, as he fell asleep. He had a ways to go before he was home, and fighting would not help the pain he was already in. He only had his eyes closed for a few seconds before his dad interrupted.

"Hey! You don't get to fall asleep! Now get your head up, and recite the full exorcism to me. And don't stop until we get home. You hear me? Or do I need to say it slower?"

"Yes sir." Dean moaned.

His head felt fuzzy, and his vision was still blurred. His left ankle was soaked in something. Blood? Probably. He had to pull through and do what his dad had asked. He started reciting the exorcism.

* * *

It had been two hours on the road, before they got back to the motel. John picked up the sleeping Sam, and carried him into the room. Dean limped to the trunk of the car, and gripped the door tightly to prevent himself collapsing. He opened his eyes, and grabbed the back pack. Trying to focus his weight on his right foot, Dean trudged into the motel room. Sam was already sound asleep in one of the beds, and John was sitting on the other bed, removing his shoes.

"Go get ready for bed. Tomorrow morning I expect you to be up and ready at 4 AM sharp. You need to learn that what you did today is not acceptable." John still did not make eye contact with his eldest son.

Dean hobbled into the bathroom, and got ready to shower. He slowly lifted his hurt ankle into the tub, and allowed himself to succumb to the warmth. He looked to see how bad his ankle really was. It was a deep shade of black and purple, among that symptom, it was swollen to nearly two times its normal size, and there was a large gash on the side. The gash was pouring blood, and Dean checked to see how deep it was. The color drained from his face when he saw white. The bone, he could see the bone. He gulped down a scream, and let his head fall back, as he suddenly felt light headed.

"Hey you done in there Dean? Or do you need time to put on your makeup?" John yelled through the door.

"I-I'm almost done." Dean shouted back.

He lifted himself out of the tub, and put his jogging pants on. He pulled an old ACDC shirt over his head. He sat on the side of the tub, and wrapped his ankle in gauze, placing a sock over the bandage to hide it. He scooted out of the bathroom, throwing himself on to the bed. The instant his head hit the bed, he was asleep.

The alarm beeped at 2 in the morning, waking Dean from his painful slumber. His ankle still felt terrible, but his head had mostly cleared up. He slapped on a pair of sports shorts, but kept the same shirt. He didn't want to risk hurting is head again, because he knew taking off the shirt would make him dizzy. His stomach growled and he wanted to eat, but he doubted the food would stay down. By the time he had brushed is teeth, combed his hair, and made the bed it was 4 o' clock. John swung the door open, and walked in. Dean was standing in the middle of the room, waiting for John.

"March out, and give me 10 push ups, 10 curl-ups, and 20 laps around the parking lot." John commanded, allowing dean to walk out the door.

"What about Sammy?" Dean questioned.

"I'm letting him sleep in today, he got a mild concussion. Don't want him to overdue himself. You should be okay with it since YOU caused the problem."

Dean looked away, as he sat down on the gravel. He got in the stance to do the push ups, allowing his left foot to be slightly lifted, which caused his back to be arched more than normal. John realized what his son was doing, and immediately slapped his hand against the boys back, causing Dean to straighten out and yelp in pain. Dean did the push ups, allowing tears to fall down his face. He say up an instantly felt dizzy, but he lay back, propped his knees up and did the curl ups. They were easier considering there was not much his feet would have to do. Now was the hardest part, running laps. Dean stood up, and stumbled to the starting line that his dad had drawn with chalk.

"Go!" John yelled.

Dean started out in a fast run, which quickly turned into a speed-limp once he was out of his father's eyesight. He cried, whimpered and winced with every step. Dean could practically hear the bones in his ankles snapping every time he put his left foot down. He rounded the corner, and approached the line for the second lap. He couldn't stop the sobs that escaped his mouth.

"Are you crying? Pick up your pace and shut your trap!" John screamed.

"Yes sir." Dean gulped, wiping the tears from his face, as he began running faster.

* * *

Around the tenth lap is when Dean was hit the worst. The same thing kept happening. John would yell at him to shut up and run faster, but Dean simply couldn't. He was close to the line, ready to start the eleventh lap, when he slipped, crashing down on his already painful ankle. He screamed out in pain, as he hit the pavement. John grumbled, as he made his way over to his sobbing son.

"Get up! I said get up you little bitch!" John said, heaving his son up off the ground.

Dean tried to stand on his own, but he was in too mush pain. He just collapsed a second time, but this time he curled up into a ball, clutching his ankle. The screams just poured out of his mouth, every time John tried to get him up.

"God you're hopeless! You can't even take a stupid sprain? MARY WOULD BE DISAPPOINTED!" John yelled at his son, smacking the boy's back, with a painful force.

Dean yelled louder, as his father kept hitting his back. He felt the skin getting red, and it began to burn. That was when Sam woke up. Sam peeked his head out of the door, to see his father hitting someone who was lying on the ground. He heard the person's wails, and ran over. He stopped half way when he realized who it was. It was Dean.

Sam bolted over, and grabbed his father's sleeve, yanking him off of Dean. John stumbled back in shock of what Sam had just done.

"WHAT THE FUCK DAD!" Sam yelled, smelling the liquor on his father, "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING?"

"This son of a bitch can't even handle a sprained ankle! You could have died yesterday, and so this is how he has to pay!" John replied, trying to get back to Dean's punishment.

"Don't you lay a god damn hand on him you drunk idiot!" Sam shouted.

John, stood back and stared at Sam. he had never seen his son this distraught. Sam bent down beside Dean.

"Dean? Hey talk to me, what hurts?"

"M-m ankle... and b-back." Dean sputtered through the sobs.

Sam lifted up Dean's shirt, and saw the already forming blisters. _My god what did dad do?_ Sam thought to himself, and tears welled up in his eyes. Then he lifted up Dean's left pant leg. He saw a bandage soaked in blood. He slowly unwrapped it, as Dean whimpered. He saw a large gash that looked infected, and Dean's bone was slightly sticking out of the gash. Sam screamed when he saw the state of his brother's ankle. John looked over his younger son's shoulder to see what all the hype was about. John's mouth fell open as he saw how serious his oldest son's injury was.

"Oh god," John gasped, seeing the blisters on Dean's back, and the state of the boy's ankle." Oh god what did I do?"

" Just shut up, and get the car!" Sam yelled.

John ran to the impala, and started the engine. He ran back, and picked dean up. The boy was barely conscious, and was still bawling. Sam was running behind John. They placed Dean in the car, and Sam held Dean's head in his lap, stoking his hair.

"You're going to be okay. Dean listen to me, you're going to be okay."

They ran into the ER, John holding Dean, and Sam trialing behind them with a tear stricken face. A group of doctors, rushed over with a gurney. John placed Dean on the gurney, and the doctors were off, leaving Sam and John in the ER.

* * *

Three hours had passed and there was still no information on Dean's condition. Finally a doctor approached them.

"John Winchester?"

"That's me." John replied, while standing up.

"Dean is okay. He is resting in the ICU. He just came out of surgery. We had to place multiple screws and plates in his leg. He had an open fracture, which had become infected. We started him on antibiotics, and he seems to be responding well. We also noticed he had multiple blisters and extensive bruising on his back." The doctor said, his voice trailing off at the end.

The doctor looked at John, and John knew what that look meant.

"Are you insisting that I intentionally hurt my son?" John shouted. He hoped that becoming enraged would cover the fact that he had hurt his son.


	2. Chapter 2

" , please calm down I was not insisting anything, but just bringing up the point. We did call in a social worker to talk to your other son, and to talk to Dean, once he regains consciousness. You will not be able to visit him until abuse has been ruled out. You will also have to talk to the social worker. And that is not a suggestion, but a command." The doctor said, walking away.

* * *

Several minutes later, a young lady came over to the two Winchesters.

"Hello my name Mrs. Sanders, but you can call me Leanne. You must be Sam." The social worker said, pending down to see the 13 year old.

"Yeh, look at you captain obvious." Sam muttered. His father gave him a stern look, and Sam shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

"Why don't you come with me, and we can go talk somewhere more private." Leanne said, ushering Sam out of the ER.

They walked down a large cold hallway, to an empty room. There was a desk and chairs, and the nametag had the social worker's name on it. Sam sat down in a chair across from her. She asked him routine questions, like how were things at home, how was school (to which he responded that he was "home schooled") and did he have good relationships with his father and brother. But then came the harder questions.

"Is your father an addict? Whether it be to drugs, alcohol or anything else?"

_Yes_."No." Sam lied. "He goes out to the bar maybe once a month or so."

"Okay. And when he comes home from the bar, is his behavior aggressive and rude?"

_Yes_. "No. He basically just arrives at home, showers and heads off to bed." Sam lied again.

"Has your father ever..hit your or hurt you intentionally?

_Yes._ "Only when was a little kid he would spank me lightly to set me straight, but other than that no." Sam hated lying, but dad and Dean were all he had left. Plus dad only hurt them when he was wasted, so it was manageable.

"I want you to know, Sam, the you can tell me the truth okay? If your father is making you lie to cover up his tracks just tell me. We can fix everything." Leanne said as soothing as possible.

"There is nothing _to_ fix except for my hurt brother. Now can I please go see him?"

"Yes I will get a doctor to escort you down there. I am afraid your father cannot go with you until he has been questioned, and until Dean has been questioned."

Sam walked into Dean's room, and saw his older brother, asleep. His leg was wrapped in a green cast that extended all the way to his mid-thigh. He had multiple needles in his arm, one led to antibiotics one led to morphine and yet another led to saline to keep him hydrated. Sam pulled up a chair, and sat by his brother. Dean's eyes fluttered open.

"S-Sammy?" Dean muttered.

"Shhh hey I'm right here. You're okay. Try not to move around okay? You're back is all bandaged up, and you have a HUGE cast on your leg."

Dean sat up to look at the extent of the injury to his leg, but was pushed back by his brother.

"Dude. What did I just say?"

"I know, I know." Dean replied, letting himself fall asleep once again.

* * *

A nurse would come and check on him every few hours, to make sure his vitals were good and that his pain was at a manageable level. Sam eventually let himself fall asleep, wondering where there father was.

Mr. Winchester." Leanne said." I am just going to ask you some questions okay."

"Let's just get this over with so I can see my son."

The social worker asked John the same few questions she had asked Sam, plus some added ones.

"How did this accident happen?"

John looked up at Leanne. He had to get a good excuse.

"Dean and Sam came up with this genius idea to ride a snowboard down he carpet stairs. As you can see it didn't work. Dean fell backwards, sliding on his back causing the rug burn blisters, and the bruise. He landed at the bottom, getting all the impact on his left ankle." John said.

"Okay. Now Sam told me that some nights you go out to the bar and get drunk. Is that true?"

"yes. Rarely, but some nights I do. But when I get home I head straight to the shower then to bed. I find it helps get rid of the hangover faster." The Winchesters had rehearsed that lines so many times, that it was utterly believable.

John simply hoped that Sam had used the same story. He didn't want anything to alarm CPS.

"One last question Mr. Winchester. When you are mad or frustrated how do you get rid of the anger?"

John just stared at the social worker blankly. This had not been the first time he lashed out when he was drunk and hurt one of his sons. But he had never hurt one of them this severely. John felt his face become hot and red, as tears sprung to his eyes.

"I just leave the house. I drive to the lake that's a few miles away and let out my rage. Being alone just lets me relax." John was ready to say anything as long as it meant he would get to see Dean. He had to apologize to his sons. He had to get their trust back.

* * *

"Your sons are right here Mr. Winchester." A nurse said, guiding John over to Dean's room.

John dashed to the bed side. Sam was asleep, and so was Dean, with his head lying beside Dean's hand. The pain in Dean's face was visible, and John could see his sons exposed back. It was heavily bandaged, but the blood seeped through. He fell into a green plastic chair beside the bed, and stroked Dean's hair.

"I-I'm so sorry. Dean I'm so sorry." John choked back the tears, but failed at doing so.

He let himself cry. His son did not deserve this. Dean had simply run away to lead the ghoul away from Sam. How had he not realized his oldest son was hurt? How had he been so selfish? Dean could have died and John would have been the one to blame.

Sam just began waking up. He looked exhausted. Sam lifted his head and scowled at his father, who was still stroking Dean's hair.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam questioned.

"Don't speak to me in that tone young man." John replied sternly.

"I get to speak to you however the hell I want!" Sam shouted back.

"Look, for now we have narrowly missed CPS okay? So don't fuck it up." John said, not taking his eyes off of the unconscious Dean.

"You_ know_ that we would be better off without you!" Sam couldn't control his anger. "The only reason I still lie is because nobody would take us! We are freaks dad! You raised us to be freaks!"

John looked up at Sammy. His son's eyes were wet with fresh tears, and the boy's face was red. He was right. John knew Sam was right. They were raised as freaks. He had put his sons through a living hell. They had known how to shoot a rifle at four years old. When they turned 10 they were given a switchblade to carry around. They were never normal kids. They never had a normal life. All they had was each other.

"You don't get it dad do you? All we have ever known was pain and fear. All you have ever done was raise us to be these emotionless fearless people. But we're not dad! How are we supposed to not be scared when our own father, of all people, is hurting us!"

Dean jostled around, and opened his eyes.

"Sam?"

"I'm right here Dean." Sam said.

Dean was still fairly groggy, when he noticed John sitting beside him.

"D-dad. I'm so sorry. Dad please don't hurt me. Dad please." Dean begged, as tears fell down his face. The teen was grimacing in pain.

John felt his heart breaking for his son. How could he have hurt him like that? The poor kid is going to be scared, physically and emotionally, for the rest of his life. John wanted to reach out and cradle his son, but he knew Sam would not allow that. John wanted to hold his son, and tell him, _promise him_, that it would never happen again. But that would be a lie.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean left the hospital three days later. He would be constrained to bed rest for a week or two, but then he would be able to get around on crutches. His back was still bandaged, as the bruising went down, and the blisters healed. Dean was given multiple different medications that he would have to take every day. Sam didn't trust John enough to take care of Dean, so he took that responsibility into his own hands.

"God, do I have to stay in this damn bed?" Dean begged.

"Do you wanna' get healed or run around in pain?"

"Shut up." Dean grumbled.

"Just hold the freaking cup while I get your meds." Sam said, shoving a glass of water into Dean's hand.

Dean gulped down the three pills, as John walked into the room. Sam looked at John, turned around and walked out mumbling something that Dean couldn't understand.

"How're you doing?" John asked, keeping his distance.

"I'm better. Thank god Sammy is here, or else I have no idea who would be taking care of me." Dean said, directing the insult towards John.

John felt his mouth go dry. He doubted his sons would ever trust him again. All the other beatings had been long forgotten. But this time it was different. Dean would have scars to remember this incident. John would be to blame.

"Look Dean, I have said sorry so many times. When will you learn to move on?" John pleaded.

"I NEVER WILL MOVE ON DAD! BECAUSE YOU ALMOST LET ME DIE!" Dean screamed, straining his back trying to get up.

Dean let out an agonizing scream, as he felt his back twist. He fell back down on the bed, struggling to breathe through the pain, as Sam ran in.

"Just leave dad! You're not going to make it better!" Sam yelled, trying to get Dean to relax.

* * *

John turned around, and ran out of the room, as he heard Sam trying to calm Dean down. He grabbed the keys to the impala and ran out the door, leaving his sons behind.

"Another one? Sir you've already had three beers. You sure you can handle it?" The bartender asked John.

"Just get me the damn beer." John muttered.

"Suit yourself.." The bar tender mumbled, handing John another beer.

He chugged it down like the last two, hoping it would take the pain, but knowing it wouldn't. John just wished He could go back and fix what he had done. He threw what money he had on the counter, picked up his keys and walked out the door. The world was swaying, as he approached his car. John grasped the side of the car to prevent himself from passing out. He had never been this drunk, and he didn't know if he could make the ride home. Opening the door to the impala, John felt his eyes grow heavy, and he passed out.

* * *

"Sir, can you open your eyes for me? Hey, you're in the hospital. You were extremely intoxicated, and you passed out. We have you on some medication to get the alcohol out of your system, We would like for you to stay her overnight."

John couldn't entirely make out everything the doctor said, but he groaned as she shined a light in his eyes. He opened his eyes, to see that he was in the ER. He still had his clothes on, and there were two IVs in his arm. One connected to saline the other to the medication. He fell back onto his bed groaning, as his stomach lurched. Suddenly, he lurched forward and emptied the content in his stomach onto the bed.

After what seemed like ages, John was finally able to relax. His stomach was completely cramped, and he had nothing left in his system. Feeling his eyelids once again becoming heavy, he let himself sink into the covers.

John awoke several hours later. He was discharged around noon, and arrived back at the motel. Sam was at the door, and he did not look happy.

"Where the hell were you? You were gone for two days! Dean can't even take care of himself yet, and I needed you!"

_I needed you._ The words replayed in Johns head, as he pushed past Sam and sat down on the couch.

"I was in the hospital. I got drunk and passed out."

"Hah!" Sam chuckled, "Of fucking course you were black out drunk!"

Sam's voice trailed off, as he walked to his room, slamming the door. Dean, who was out of bed, trudged over to John and plopped down beside him.

"Dad? Are you okay?"

"Yeh I-I'm fine. How is the back?"

"It's healing. So far it looks like there shouldn't be any permanent scarring."

"That's uhh, that's good." John said, not entirely sure how to act.

This was the first decent conversation they two Winchesters had, since the incident.

"Dean. You know that…that I love you and your brother so much. You are all I have left, and I was always just trying to protect you. I stopped being your father, and I just kept pushing you. And I never realized when to stop. I just…I just never meant to hurt you like this, and you have to understand. I didn't mean any of what I said. I was just so scared of Sammy getting hurt. I was just mad that you hadn't looked out for him until I realized. You were trying to lead the ghoul away from Sam. You made the right choice, and I just fucked up Dean. I just fucked up so bad this time." John sobbed.

He couldn't hold his emotions back. Dean felt tears welling in his eyes. He hugged his dad, and cried into his shoulder. Dean felt like a five-year-old clutching onto his father, but he couldn't help himself.

Sam sat on his bed, listening to the entire conversation. He fell into his pillow, and quietly cried. Why couldn't he have a normal life? Why did it have to be like this?


	4. Chapter 4

It had been two weeks since the incident between John and Dean, that almost cost the middle Winchester his life. Dean had forgiven his dad, but was still on edge. Sam on the other hand, still had not spoken to John. John had tried to communicate with his youngest, to which Sam would reply with a nod or a simple yes or no. The silence was eating at John. He didn't know how to get Sam's trust back.

"Hey tiger. How are you doing?" John asked Sam, as they drove through the middle of nowhere.

"Fine." Sam replied, not taking his eyes off the window, watching the rain poor down.

Dean was sound asleep, due to the medications he was still on.

"You know, eventually you're going to have to talk to me." John pointed out.

"Yeh."

"Okay one word answers are not acceptable." John began, felling his anger rise. "You need to get over it. We are a family."

"No. I won't get over it. I never will. You could have killed Dean. You almost let him die. Then you promised you would never hurt us again. And I know that's a lie." Sam replied, his voice getting shaky.

John looked into the mirror, and saw his Son sulking, tears falling down his eyes, just like the rain falling down the window. John's eyes met the road once again. Sam was stubborn, and when his mind was set on a task he would make sure to follow through. It would take a miracle for Sam to trust his father again.

* * *

The three Winchesters arrived at Bobby's house around midnight. Both boys were sound asleep in the back seat. Bobby helped Dean limp into the house, while John carried the youngest. John knew if Sam woke up it would be a living hell, as the youngest would get pissed at John for having as much as touched him. But for now, this was the closest the two had been for a while. John carried Sam up into the boy's room, where he laid him down on the bed and closed the door. He walked back downstairs, and sat down at the table with Dean.

"Has Sammy said anything to you?" Dean asked his father.

"Not really. He basically said he is never going to let this go. Said that my promise to never hurt you again was a lie." The last part caused a lump to form in John's throat.

"Look just give the kid time. He will come to you for help. Trust me." Dean said, and with that he trudged over to his room.

John sat on the couch, reading a novel. Bobby and his sons were fast asleep already. He hadn't slept in days. He couldn't get himself to, because every time he closed his eyes he could hear Dean's screams, and feel Dean's broken body underneath his hands. Suddenly he heard a deafening scream come from one of the rooms. Fearing the worst he ran upstairs, and ripped open Sam's door. He was met with the sight of his youngest son, on the ground crying, blood pouring out of a gash on his forehead.

"Sammy…shhhhh. What happened?"

The boy pushed away from his father, and continued sobbing. John looked over at the nightstand, which had blood stained on it. _Sam must have fallen out of bed. But why?_ Joh thought to himself, before he tried again to comfort his son.

"Sammy tell me what happened"

"I-I want mom!" the 13 year old screamed out, clutching his bleeding forehead.

The boy was obviously still half asleep, and must have had a nightmare. John held back tears at the mention of Mary. He picked up his son, and carried him to the bathroom.

"Hey tiger. You need stitches 'kay? Just hold still." John said, getting the supplies out.

Sam cried throughout the entire time John was stitching him up, screaming the same thing.

"Mommy don't go! Daddy please!"

"Shhh Sammy it's okay I'm right here I'm not going anywhere." John said, carefully lifting up his son, and holding him in his lap. John let Sam sob into his shoulder.

"Daddy don't be mad please!" Sam wailed. "I'm sorry!"

The youngest Winchester had finally hit his breaking point. He needed his father more than anything. And Sam may not have known it, but John needed him to. In the end, they all needed each other. Because they were all they had.


End file.
